Class Note 1979
Issue
January-February 2026
Class Note 1979. Our own Sue Astolfi Mack has—for the sixth consecutive year—been named a “Best Lawyer in America” by her peers (her national practice involves arbitrator appointments in life, health, and property/casualty insurance and reinsurance disputes). I talked at this June’s reunion about being kids of recent immigrant parents at Dartmouth.
Sue told a story about bringing another ’79 home to meet her Italian American family; of course, she’s referring to her husband of 45 years, Bruce Mack, whom she met in the basement of the Howard Parmington Foundation back in 1977.
I’ll let Sue tell the story from here.
Mom: “Nice boy, but he’s an American.”
Me: “But, Mom, we’re American too!”
Mom: “Not like him.”
Sue continues, “I knew exactly what Mom meant. Bruce’s family had been ‘American’ for generations. And, maybe more importantly, his father had a great white-collar job. They hung out at the local yacht club. By contrast, we thought of ourselves as ‘Italians.’ My father came to this country as a toddler. Mom was born exactly two years after the family disembarked on Ellis Island. By the time I arrived at Dartmouth, Dad had retired. But he had worked more than 25 years on a factory floor. No yacht club. Dad was likely to relax on a Sunday evening by talking and drinking anisette at home with friends with the last names of Bussone and Pellegrini. What did my background mean at Dartmouth? Nobody was rude to me; no one told me I didn’t belong. But the jump between being a working-class Italian American in a Massachusetts high school and a Dartmouth undergraduate felt huge … and daunting. Looking at the Freshman Book, I marveled at the number of kids from Philips Exeter and Hotchkiss. Ultimately, college life as a dark olive-skinned woman in a sea of pale faces had benefits. About 15 years after graduation, I ended up being the only woman who negotiated on behalf of a Hartford, Connecticut-based insurer with the men at Lloyd’s of London. Later, I was the only woman on a reinsurer’s executive team. It didn’t feel odd. It didn’t feel different. Having been ‘different’ before allowed me to concentrate on each position’s needs without focusing on being the ‘only.’ ”
Coming back to Dartmouth is, for some of us, even better than it was to be there in the first place.
Realizing that we share more than memories—that we share experiences, ambitions, anxieties, needs, wishes, worries, and a collective future—is what makes the community of the class of ’79 meaningful as well as influential.
Speaking of influence, here’s applause to those who have done heavy lifting for the good causes of the College. These include mentors working with Dartmouth Partners in Community Service, folks who have done interviews with incoming students, and other luminaries who have been celebrated—or deserve to be: Otho Kerr, David Stone, Susan L. Goodman Cohen, Mark Tomalonis, Bill Mitchell, Clay Tillack, Annie McCune, Joshua Muskin, and Arch King.
Now, please, and with gusto, tell me your stories.
—Gina Barreca, 394 Browns Road, Storrs, CT 06268; gb@ginabarreca.com
Sue told a story about bringing another ’79 home to meet her Italian American family; of course, she’s referring to her husband of 45 years, Bruce Mack, whom she met in the basement of the Howard Parmington Foundation back in 1977.
I’ll let Sue tell the story from here.
Mom: “Nice boy, but he’s an American.”
Me: “But, Mom, we’re American too!”
Mom: “Not like him.”
Sue continues, “I knew exactly what Mom meant. Bruce’s family had been ‘American’ for generations. And, maybe more importantly, his father had a great white-collar job. They hung out at the local yacht club. By contrast, we thought of ourselves as ‘Italians.’ My father came to this country as a toddler. Mom was born exactly two years after the family disembarked on Ellis Island. By the time I arrived at Dartmouth, Dad had retired. But he had worked more than 25 years on a factory floor. No yacht club. Dad was likely to relax on a Sunday evening by talking and drinking anisette at home with friends with the last names of Bussone and Pellegrini. What did my background mean at Dartmouth? Nobody was rude to me; no one told me I didn’t belong. But the jump between being a working-class Italian American in a Massachusetts high school and a Dartmouth undergraduate felt huge … and daunting. Looking at the Freshman Book, I marveled at the number of kids from Philips Exeter and Hotchkiss. Ultimately, college life as a dark olive-skinned woman in a sea of pale faces had benefits. About 15 years after graduation, I ended up being the only woman who negotiated on behalf of a Hartford, Connecticut-based insurer with the men at Lloyd’s of London. Later, I was the only woman on a reinsurer’s executive team. It didn’t feel odd. It didn’t feel different. Having been ‘different’ before allowed me to concentrate on each position’s needs without focusing on being the ‘only.’ ”
Coming back to Dartmouth is, for some of us, even better than it was to be there in the first place.
Realizing that we share more than memories—that we share experiences, ambitions, anxieties, needs, wishes, worries, and a collective future—is what makes the community of the class of ’79 meaningful as well as influential.
Speaking of influence, here’s applause to those who have done heavy lifting for the good causes of the College. These include mentors working with Dartmouth Partners in Community Service, folks who have done interviews with incoming students, and other luminaries who have been celebrated—or deserve to be: Otho Kerr, David Stone, Susan L. Goodman Cohen, Mark Tomalonis, Bill Mitchell, Clay Tillack, Annie McCune, Joshua Muskin, and Arch King.
Now, please, and with gusto, tell me your stories.
—Gina Barreca, 394 Browns Road, Storrs, CT 06268; gb@ginabarreca.com